


Oh ...

by janescott



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erm. Everyone saw That Pic, right? This one? http://i127.photobucket.com/albums/p150/sf_ebay/a1/OMG/2ry50kn.jpg This is the photographer: http://blog.jedroot.com/jri/2010/05/welcome-thomas-whiteshide.html W/e. I ship it. He's cute - lol.</p><p>Disclaimer: Nothing herein belongs to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh ...

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm. This started as twitter!porn between me and Alyssand _ I borrowed some of your words, bb, I hope you don't mind. Unbeta'd because I wanted to surprise i_bleed_magenta as well - I hope _that's_ okay - lol.
> 
> This is porn. I know nothing about the photog guy, except he's cute. It's for Alyssand and i_bleed_magenta &lt;3 (and the other pervs on my twitter feed who were drooling over that pic. ILU all)

He's big. And his hands are _everywhere_. And – okay. He's big ... oooh fuck. But his hands are all over Thomas' back, making his nerves spark up and curl to the surface of his skin until he's sure he's going to catch fire.

He's not even sure how they got here – not really. One minute he was taking a photo of Adam with his hands slipping down the front of his pants; a slack-sensual look on his face, like he's alone and about to jerk off and he's just starting; planning to take his time oh - _fuck_ and now – now they're on some dark street corner crammed into the driver's seat of Adam's car, because, because Thomas made him stop the fucking car because he couldn't _stand_ it any more.

Adam's mouth is rich somehow; and full and hot and Thomas cannot think right now because Adam's tongue is in his mouth, pulling all of the taste out of it; hot and insistent. His hands – his big, warm hands that Thomas kept staring at in the photo shoot are splayed on his back; moving slowly down, and so _slowly_, and Thomas wonders, fuzzily, why he's the only one in this car who's naked. But then Adam's fingertips trace lightly around his hole, and Thomas forgets why that matters, even as he bunches his fists in Adam's t-shirt, wanting, wanting _skin_.

"I – need – I don't have -" Adam's voice is low and breathless against his neck and it's a near thing whether Thomas is going to come right then because _fuck_. He rests his forehead against Adam's for a moment and _thinks_.

"My – bag. Got – my bag," he manages to say and then somehow drags it up from the footwell of the passenger's side, scrabbling in it one-handed as he fights with Adam's belt with his other; trying to do it all at once because – "Let me," Adam says, right against his pulse; his blood hammering through his body, and all he can do is nod and say okay. Okay.

Adam just tips out the whole bag on the passenger's seat, grabbing the small bottle of lube and a string of three condoms that had been a joke birthday present from Thomas' assistant the month before because ha ha ha he's practically living like a monk and it really isn't that fu – "Oh. Fuck," he breathes out; almost reverent and he should be embarrassed by that but Adam's squeezing lube over his fingers, slicking them and oh _Jesus_. Thomas works blindly at Adam's belt, getting it open, getting his pants undone, and the groan that spills out of Adam's mouth as Thomas frees his cock – Jesus, that sound should be _illegal_.

His hands scrabble back up Adam's chest to his shoulders because he wants to touch but he wants so much more and if he touches Adam's cock now – smearing the pre-come beading on the head; stroking down – he's not going to last and he wants, he needs this to last.

Thomas rears up as far as he can, which is not far at all; he's already nearly touching the roof of the fucking Mustang - spread out on Adam's lap like a fucking offering or willing sacrifice - as Adam slips the tip of one finger in slick-cold with too much lube but it doesn't fucking matter. Thomas kisses him then; as hard as he can; biting at his full bottom lip and sucking on his tongue; rocking into the vibration of the moans that – that _he's_ pulling out of Adam's throat like he can't help himself; like fucking Thomas is the only thing that matters in the entire world.

Thomas curls one hand into Adam's shoulder, nearly laughing when he realises he's still wearing the jacket from the photo shoot, that he's pretty much still dressed apart from his pants lying open; his hard, heavy cock _obscene_ and weighted against the fabric of his t-shirt. And it's – it's right there, and oh God he's going to fuck Thomas and if he doesn't do it soon, Thomas is pretty sure he's going to fucking d- "Oh fuck!" echoes too loud in the car when Adam's fingertip presses against that spot that sends sparks shooting all over his skin.

"In ... a minute," Adam says, like he's running out of air, and it's close in the car: the smell of leather and sex so heavy that Thomas is sure he can taste it.

"Can you -" he hands Thomas one of the condoms, ripped off the strip and he tears the foil open, willing his fingers to stop _shaking_. Slowly, carefully, he rolls it on to Adam's thick cock, savouring the feel of it under his fingertips even as it disappears into the latex. Adam's making these noises – tiny, breathy hitches that he seems unaware of but they're going straight to Thomas' cock; hard against his own belly, the skin overheated.

He lifts up as far as he can and somehow they both move and manoeuvre and oh God Adam shouldn't be allowed to roll his hips like that it's just not _fair_ \- Thomas' thoughts cut off at the same moment Adam starts rocking up into him because Jesus "Oh fuck," and now he's the one breathing against skin; Adam's neck is hot-salty-slick with sweat and all he wants to do for the rest of his _life_ is taste that and have Adam fuck into him like this: slow and perfect and oh God oh God oh _God_.

It's been so fucking long he's almost forgotten the pain/pleasure edge of the stretch and burn and oh _God_. His whole body feels like it's straining – his muscles locking tight and his nerves feeling like they're going to burst out of his skin, and then they're kissing again; messy and filthy; their mouths open like there's not enough air between them and Thomas fucking groans, because he's pulled tight against Adam now; his cock trapped between their bodies and there's not quite enough friction, but oh God that edge, that fucking _edge_ is perfect right now, and perfect torture all at once and Jesus, Adam's so fucking _big_.

Thomas can make tiny, tiny movements, but he can't move far; not that he wants to, but the way Adam's rolling his hips, his hands curled tight on Thomas' waist like he's keeping him in place, like Thomas is _going_ anywhere, fuck _oh_

Adam buries his head in Thomas' neck, his hair falling silky on to his shoulder, muffling his voice in the curve there as he groans and pushes up one more time, _hard_ and he's coming; he's coming; Thomas can feel the pulse of it jolt through his body and he needs – "I need - " his voice rough and desperate but Adam's hand – his big, warm hand, wraps around his cock and Thomas nearly comes right then with the sheer _relief_ of it as Adam strokes one, two, three and he's coming so hard and fast that he doesn't have time to process it, or wonder what the fuck just happened.

"So – this ride home I'm meant to be giving you ..." Adam says once they've both caught their breath, and all Thomas can do is lean in, rest his head on Adam's shoulder and laugh.

"Yeah. Some ride."


End file.
